


No One Appreciates How Hard it is to be a Crime Lord

by BookishAngel (DisnerdingAvenger)



Series: Bright Young Things [4]
Category: Bright Young Things, Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Siblings, TW: vivisection, basically what you would get if Gotham was in England, villains au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-12 08:04:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18442433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisnerdingAvenger/pseuds/BookishAngel
Summary: The Millennium Star is one of the most valuable diamonds in the world - and Miles Maitland wants it. Not because he needs it, but because it's pretty and expensive and he's the type of man who likes pretty and expensive things. After all, the Daily Herald doesn't call him "the Dandy" for nothing. Overseeing uptown London's criminal underworld, his reputation precedes him.Little does he know, an up-and-coming criminal who goes by the name "the Gardener" also has his sights set on the Millennium Star - and, using his telekinetic power over plants and hypnotic cologne, he steals it right from underneath Miles' nose.Determined to get the diamond back, the Gardener becomes the Dandy's nemesis... but relationship statuses DO have a tendency to change...





	1. I've Never Seen a Diamond in the Flesh

**Author's Note:**

> The other day I found myself thinking about how TV!Crowley is essentially just Poison Ivy, with his red hair and all of his plants... and then this happened. In case I haven't already made it abundantly clear, villain couples are MY weakness.

There is a delicate balance which must be maintained when planning a heist and said balance becomes even _more_ delicate when the heist involves the theft of a diamond of a calibre as high as the Millennium Star.

It was housed in the headquarters of De Beers Sa, heavily guarded at all times, and the object of many a criminal’s desire. Internally and externally flawless, how could it _not_ be?

Miles Maitland had decided that he wanted it months ago. He knew the second that he laid eyes on it at the De Beers collection gala in December – a charitable event that contributed to some children’s hospital or another every Christmas – that it needed to be a part of _his_ collection. Not for any practical reason, of course; just because it was pretty and one-of-a-kind, and Miles was the type of man who liked to have extravagant, stunning things.

The _Daily Herald_ didn’t call him “the Dandy” for no reason, after all.

He and Agatha – whom the _Herald_ called “Ms. Glimmer” for the sheer number of heists she had pulled off without leaving a shred of evidence behind to convict her of anything – had been planning to steal the Star since the gala, and they’d settled on April 18th as the night that they would bring their plans to fruition. Everything was meant to go off without a hitch; they had accounted for every variable that could throw them off course and planned to deal with them accordingly.

What they _hadn’t_ accounted for was the bloody _Gardener_ showing up, with his freaky sentient plants and sharply tailored suit, to muck everything up. What were the odds that _another_ criminal would choose April 18th to strike De Beers – and in pursuit of the _exact same diamond?_

They had just incapacitated the guards with a carefully concocted knock-out gas; tasteless and odourless, it had left them entirely unable to call for help before they found themselves out cold on the floor of every room in the building. The plan was to slip in, grab the diamond, wipe the security footage and slip back out again.

Of course, that was rather difficult to do when the entire building was suddenly being overtaken by _plants_ , to the point that the place was quickly beginning to resemble an Amazonian rain forest – and their Lord and Master, the Gardener himself, appeared entirely immune to the gas they had used on everyone else in the building. He’d had strange immunities and abilities ever since he got out of prison; it was unclear what exactly had been done to him in there, but he’d clearly warped the experimentation to his advantage.

“Call me crazy, darling, but I _do_ think he’s heading in the direction of the Millennium Star,” Agatha had observed as she and Miles stood, shell shocked, on the opposite side of the lobby. They each wore a gas mask as a precautionary measure, while Miles wore a periwinkle three-piece suit beneath his fur coat and Agatha, at his right side, wore a white pantsuit that seemed to be entirely covered in glitter.

You see, when you run uptown London’s criminal underworld, it’s essential that you conduct your criminal activities in _style_ , should anyone see you. It was an unspoken rule that had likely been pulled from the pages of Ian Fleming’s _James Bond_ novels –

\- or, in the Gardener’s case, from the films.

“Oh, no he _isn’t_ ,” Miles snapped, his voice slightly muffled from behind the mask, and he scowled as he stalked forward and down the corridor that their rival thief had disappeared into mere seconds before. He had spent _far too long_ planning this for it all to be spoiled by some… some _freak_ with an excessively green thumb.

Agatha was hurrying along behind him, and they finally caught up with their competitor just as he was pulling the glass casing from atop the diamond. The security system had, at this point, been entirely disabled by the coiling plants at his command; thorny, rather vicious looking vines had slithered into the wall and made a _right mess_ of the building’s wiring. Far less elegant than what Miles and Agatha had planned to do; far less sneaky and covert. The _Daily Herald_ would be all over this in the morning and for _all the wrong reasons._

“Just _what_ do you think you’re doing?” Miles snapped when he stalked into the room, glaring daggers at his opponent as he pulled off his gas mask and tossed it onto the floor; the gas had been chemically engineered to dissipate roughly fifteen minutes after the guards collapsed, which would have left him and Agatha to conduct their work in peace. Evidently, such was not going to be the case.

The Gardener looked up – and, although he was wearing impenetrable black sunglasses, Miles got the feeling that he was being _sized_ up.

Nobody in London, neither criminal nor civilian, knew very much about the Gardener. He’d popped up on their radar about a year ago but, up until this point, he hadn’t caused much trouble; a heist here, a bank robbery there – nothing truly _attention-grabbing_ – and, while the rest of the city’s rabble-rousers liked to get together every now and again to talk shop, the Gardener kept to himself. Truth be told, he was rather a recluse; this was the first time that Miles had ever seen him in person.

And, he realized with mild annoyance, the Gardener was quite a _handsome_ person with sharp cheekbones; a mess of bright red hair the colour of blood or an exceptionally vibrant rose; long, delicate fingers; and he was well-dressed, in a suit that rivalled Miles’ own in style. He looked like he could _be_ James Bond, with that sharp black tux and perfectly shined shoes. Worse still, he was _tall,_ and Miles had always had a weakness for tall men.

Setting his jaw, he took a few angry steps forward, his own white, heeled shoes (imported from France) clicking on polished the tile flooring (which was quickly growing covered in pollen from the slithering plant-life).

“That diamond is _mine,_ ” he stated, frowning pointedly and clenching his fists. To his absolute shock, the Gardener smirked.

“What, this diamond?” he asked, plucking the perfectly cut 203 carat stone from its display, holding it up to the light and watching it shine.

“ _Yes, **that**_ diamond-!” Miles had begun to shout – and everything after that happened very quickly.

Agatha had tossed her mask aside to give a shout; a warning, really; and then suddenly a surprisingly thick vine of ivy began coiling itself around Miles, starting at his legs and quickly making its way upward until it was tightly wrapped around his torso, pinning his arms at his sides. Agatha was similarly incapacitated, with another branch of the thorny plant that had penetrated the walls coiled around her legs. Any movement would have caused the thorns to pierce her skin.

“ _What is the meaning of this?_ What in God’s name do you think you are _doing?!_ ” Miles snapped, clearly enraged as he wriggled in the grasp of the coiling ivy; the plant’s response was to tighten around his body and threateningly lift him a few feet off of the ground. Over at the display case, the Gardener’s smirk turned into a proper, toothy grin, exposing a set of slightly elongated incisors as he laughed. Tossing the diamond into the air once and catching it, he strolled casually over to Miles and stood in front of him, at eye level now that the ivy had hoisted him upward.

“The same thing you were trying to do, I suspect – only I’ve succeeded,” he drawled, holding the diamond a few inches away from Miles’ face. In the fluorescent lighting of the room, it cast shimmering shadows of every colour of the rainbow over his skin.

At this vantage point, both criminals were able to fully examine each other; the Gardener, Miles noticed, had a surprising smattering of freckles on his nose, and the tie that he had assumed, from a distance, was solid black was actually embroidered with a pattern of deep green, coiling ivy, not unlike the plant that currently had him in its clutches.

From behind the dark lenses of his expensive sunglasses, the Gardener noted that Miles Maitland, London’s infamous Dandy, had light hazel eyes that were rimmed with perfectly applied eye makeup, and his black eyeliner was arguably sharper than the Gardener’s incisors. He smirked, leaning forward enough that their noses touched, his lips exceedingly close to the rosy red lips of the crime lord that he had effectively trapped.

“How does that make you feel?” he asked, his breath tickling Miles’ face, and Miles found himself squirming against the ivy again – for a rather different reason this time. He huffed out a breath when the grip tightened and the plant coiled further up his body, inching past his shoulders and wrapping threateningly around his neck. It didn’t tighten there – yet.

“How do you _think_ it makes me feel?” he snapped, and he would have kicked the Gardener’s shins if he could have out of frustration. “I’ve been planning this heist since _December_ , and suddenly you _waltz in_ with your army of posies and take what’s rightfully mine! I’m bloody _furious_ , and the second that this blasted _weed_ lets me go, I am going to _kill you!_ ”

Evidently, the ivy didn’t take well to being called a “weed,” for it chose that moment to tighten around Miles’ neck – not enough to suffocate him, but enough to make him shut up.

“Really? You’re going to kill me?” the Gardener asked, still smirking, and Miles squirmed fiercely when his hands, the nails varnished with black polish, came up to rest at his cheeks. The bastard was going to snap his neck, he was going to _kill him_ , he was going to…

…to…

…… _to……_

_What was that smell?_

“You see, I don’t think you’re going to kill me, pretty boy,” the Gardener hummed, and _oh,_ his voice _was_ enchanting, wasn’t it? “I think you _love_ me.”

A few feet away, Agatha gave an amused snort.

“He may be an incorrigible flirt, but I don’t think you’re going to win him over _that_ easily, darling. The only thing he loves more than boys is diamonds, and you’ve just taken one that he wants rather desperately.”

Miles, whose head was swimming and utterly overwhelmed by a surge of oxytocin produced by the pheromones swirling around him, giggled.

He **_giggled._**

“Do you love me?” the Gardener asked, sweeping his thumbs against Miles’ rouged cheekbones, and Miles melted beneath his touch.

“Oh, _desperately_ ,” he cooed, squirming again in the ivy’s grip; this time, it began to uncoil, allowing Miles to stumble forward and latch onto the Gardener’s jacket, not to kill him, as promised-

\- but to _kiss_ him.

Agatha, who was still being detained by the vine of thorns, was reasonably baffled when her best friend was suddenly locking lips with the man who had foiled their plans. The Gardener, whose hands were still at Miles’ cheeks, made a thoughtful noise before kissing him back, nipping a red lip with his sharp teeth before slipping his tongue – forked, and not entirely human – into Miles’ mouth.

When the previously murderous Dandy exhaled a surprised moan, the Gardener broke their kiss with an audible _pop!_ and smirked, tapping Miles’ nose with his index finger while keeping the other hand resting at his cheek.

“Tell me again – how does my taking the diamond make you feel?” he asked and Miles smiled dreamily, smoothing his hands over the Gardener’s black jacket.

“Nothing could make me happier,” he mused, hazel eyes twinkling with obvious affection. “I want you to have it, darling; you deserve it. You deserve all the diamonds in the _world._ ”

Humming in consideration, the Gardener examined the Millennium Star, still in his hand, and watched it twinkle.

“Perhaps, but I think this one will do for the present. Now,” he spoke, pocketing the diamond, “I want you and your little friend to stay here until I’m safely away from the premises. I can’t have you following me, now can I?”

“But I _want_ to follow you,” Miles pouted, curling his fingers into the Gardener’s jacket again, and the Gardener made a face, clearly amused.

“I know you do,” he cooed in return, trailing a finger over Miles’ cheek while his other hand gravitated downward to the side of his neck, his thumb tracing over Miles’ Adam’s apple, “and I’m sure we’ll meet again, pretty thing, you – but I’ve got work that needs to be done. Just do as I say.”

Sighing (still dreamily), Miles nodded, prompting the Gardener to smirk. Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to Miles’ forehead and ruffled his dark curls. With a snap of his fingers, the thorny plant around Agatha’s legs unravelled and made its way over to its master, sliding up his leg and over his back until it came to rest draped over his shoulder. He ran his fingers over it, effectively nicking his skin on the thorns, but he didn’t flinch; he just watched as the plant absorbed the blood that dripped from his fingertips. Seconds later, with astonishing speed, the plant sprouted a blossom which quickly bloomed into a brilliantly red rose.

_A rose plant,_ Agatha found herself realizing; _it explained the thorns._

Delicately plucking the rose from its host, the Gardener poked it through the top buttonhole of Miles’ blue coat, grinning before he turned on his heel and headed toward the exit, nodding at a very baffled-looking Agatha on his way.

“Ms. Glimmer. It was a pleasure to finally meet you; I’m a great admirer of your work.”

Blinking, glancing from her dazed best friend to his apparent lover, Agatha said, “Er… Thank you, I suppose?”

Giving her a mock salute, the Gardener walked out the door, his plants slithering along after him like oxygen-seeping snakes. Hesitantly, Agatha made her way over to Miles and touched his arm. He blinked and looked at her, still smiling like a love-struck fool.

“Isn’t he wonderful?” he asked, sighing blissfully, and Agatha pursed her lips before she spoke.

“Darling, he took the Millennium Star. You _let_ him take the Millennium Star.”

“I wanted him to have it,” Miles stated, shrugging before he looked down to smile at his rose, tenderly stroking the petals with a fingertip.

“More than you wanted to have it yourself?” Agatha asked, clearly apprehensive. It was no secret that Miles was a bit of a rake; he liked to flirt, and kiss, and slip off to bed with a string of handsome gentlemen that she had long since stopped trying to keep track of. She had never, however, seen him fall so easily – nor so _completely_. It was bizarre. It was unnatural. It was…

Outside, there was a squealing of tires on the pavement. As the sound disappeared into the night, Miles blinked once.

Then he blinked again.

Then he blinked several times, and then he _scowled._ Whatever spell the Gardener had cast upon him was wearing off as the scent that had been clinging to his wrists began to fade, leaving Miles’ with a clearer head and a restored sense of rage.

“That… That _bastard!_ ” he exclaimed, clenching his fists and rushing over to the display case; the diamond, and its thief, were both long gone. “That incorrigible flash-bastard! _How could you let him get away?!_ ” he aimed at Agatha, whirling on his heel to glare at her, and she huffed.

“You didn’t tell me to go after him!”

“I was _hypnotized!_ ” he wailed, stamping his foot with fury before taking his anger out on the pedestal where the diamond had been, kicking it several times until it fell over with a crash. Agatha cringed.

“Now, really, darling,” she tried to reason with him, walking over and touching his arm again. “How would he have hypnotized you – and how would I have known that he did?”

“I don’t know _how_ he did it,” Miles huffed, scowling, “I just know that he _did_ and that he took my diamond! Months of planning, all for naught!”

Trembling with rage, he sneered and started toward the exit, Agatha hurrying after him.

“He’s going to pay for this,” he stated with venom in his voice, tossing the front doors open and stalking toward the silver Porsche waiting for them down the street. ( _Note: a stylish getaway car is also essential to pulling off a good heist, as demonstrated by several Fleming novels and Bond films._ )

“How? You don’t know where he hides out. No one does,” Agatha stated as she pulled the driver’s door open and slipped in. Miles was still scowling when he got in beside her.

“ _Someone_ does - and when I find out, I’m going to hunt him down and kill him _and_ all of his bloody plants!”

Starting the car and taking off down the street, Agatha hesitated before asking, “…are you sure you won’t just end up kissing him again?”

Shuddering with anger, Miles snapped, “I didn’t kiss him! He _made_ me kiss him!”

He chose not to dwell upon the fact that no orders of that nature had been given to him while he was hypnotized; the kiss, in truth, had happened because he’d been thinking about doing so the second that the Gardener got close enough to tempt him. Attractive, tall men really _had_ always been his weakness.

_He just hadn’t expected one to become his nemesis, too._


	2. Baby, Let the Games Begin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At Club Eden, Miles confronts Lilith Crowley about whether or not she knows the Gardener. She's not quite as forthcoming as she should be.

Club Eden was the hottest spot in all of London for a plethora of reasons, including that it had the best appletinis in the city; it had a strict policy of only allowing in one man for every nine women to keep the groping to a minimum; and it was a hub for nefarious criminal activities, such as arms dealing, pill pushing, and buying and/or trading information.

Miles and Agatha were there for information – and maybe a few appletinis.

You see, the proprietor of Club Eden not only owned the club, but she also oversaw downtown London’s criminal underworld and ruled her territory with an iron, diamond clad-fist and the influence of her gang, the Daughters of Eve. They say that Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned – and they are absolutely correct. The Daughters of Eve were all formidable women who had either gone to prison and recently been released or who killed their abusive husbands and managed not to get caught. Lilith Crowley was their ringleader – and she had the highest body-count of them all.

Lilith was who Miles was determined to see, for if anyone knew where and how he could find the Gardener and get back what was rightfully his, it would be her.

Her underlings, however, were not making it easy.

A tall, well-built woman named Candace was serving as the Club’s bouncer tonight and, while she had let Agatha in without a second thought, her arm had flown out to block Miles’ entrance. She only missed hitting him in the nose by an inch – an action that he was sure had been intentional. Intimidation was one of the Daughters’ favourite tactics.

“The quota hasn’t been met,” Candace supplied, flicking her long brown hair over one shoulder while keeping her arm firmly blocking Miles’ entrance. Miles rolled his eyes.

“Oh, you  _must_ be joking,” he snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. “If you think  _I_ have any intention of grabbing club-goers’ bottoms, you are  _sorely_ mistaken. I want to see Lilith.”

Candace didn’t budge.

“The quota hasn’t been met,” she repeated, narrowing her eyes. “Get to the back of the queue and wait your turn like the rest of the boys. If you’re lucky, maybe you’ll make the cut when you get to the front again.”

Bristling, Miles curled his fingers into fists out of frustration. He and Agatha hadn’t joined the queue to begin with; they had stepped out of the Porsche and gone straight to the front of the line. That’s what people at Club Eden seeking business rather than pleasure  _did._ The rules were different for their kind. There was  _no way in Hell_ that he was going to  _join the queue;_ ‘the queue’ was massive and wound all the way down the street and around to the next block over.

Reaching up and pinching the bridge of his nose, he hissed, “Do you  _know_ who I  _am?_ ”

Candace snorted as she took in Miles’ periwinkle suit and white fur coat, rolling her own eyes before she retorted, “Of course I know who you are.”

“Then you’ll have no issue with letting me in.”

“There are rules,  _Dandy;_ we don’t make exceptions.”

“Oh, this is nonsense! Utter nonsense!” he declared, tossing his hands in the air and scowling at the crowd of people behind him who were beginning to complain about him holding up the queue. “Oh, shut up! You’ll get your turn!”

Turning back to Candace, he pursed his lips before – as calmly as he could manage – stating, “You let Agatha in. She and I are here on business  _together_.”

“The boss likes Agatha,” Candace stated simply, adding afterward, “She doesn’t like you. Now move it along; I’ve got a quota to fill.”

“Move it al-? I most certainly will  _not_ move it along! You’re going to let me in  _right now_ , or I’ll-!”

“Alright, alright; that’s quite enough.”

The silky voice came from within; a second later, a young woman in a red pantsuit emerged. Agatha was standing behind her and, looking at Miles, she sheepishly declared, “I went and found her as fast as I could; so sorry to keep you waiting, darling.”

Miles just rolled his eyes - again.

Standing with Agatha was Lilith Crowley herself; her dark, shiny hair cascaded in waves down her back, her lips were a shade of red that she liked to call “Adam’s Blood”, and her eyeliner was so sharp that it could kill a man – and quite possibly had, more than once. Arching a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, with no trace of amusement in her blue eyes, she mused, “Miles Maitland – what an unpleasant surprise. To what do I owe the displeasure?”

Pursing his lips, Miles clenched his fists a tad tighter, glancing around before meeting Lilith’s gaze again and stating, “I believe this is a conversation more well-suited for  _inside_ , don’t you agree?”

An appletini held delicately in her hand, red lacquered nails glinting in the neon light of the club’s sign hanging above, Lilith smirked before she took a sip of her drink. Miles was in  _her_ territory right now; she held all the power, all of the cards, and she knew it.

“I believe that would depend upon what this ‘conversation’ is to be about.”

Setting his jaw, resisting the urge to scream with irritation, Miles lowered his voice and practically hissed, “The  _Gardener._ I want information on that pesky bastard and I know that you have it.”

Lilith just arched an eyebrow. Scowling, Miles made a noise of frustration before declaring, “I’ll  _pay_ you for it,  _of course_.” He looked to be rather in pain as he stated, “Cusack’s Emporium. Located twenty leagues into my territory. Give me the information that I want and…” Gritting his teeth, Miles insisted, “…it’s all yours.”

He could see a spark of interest light up in Lilith’s eyes. They had a bit of a treaty, she and Miles; there was an established borderline between his uptown territory and her downtown territory, with a sort of No Man’s Land in between, down by the docks where the Thames met Canvey Island. They could squabble over that all they liked, and use it to conduct trade and business matters with parties who resided on either side, but they would not, under any circumstances, invade each other’s space. They’d done that for a while, from 2002-2005; all that it had done was spill an unnecessary amount of blood and waste a frustrating number of bullets. Peace had been necessary; they were stronger as adversaries with a mutual understanding than as outright enemies whose territory was being picked off by other criminals while they fought with each other.  

Cusack’s Emporium was on Miles’ side; it was an old wax museum where many his drug mules left their cargo to be retrieved. If he gave it to Lilith… well, business would go on as usual for the mules, but it would be Lilith’s Daughters picking up the cargo instead of Miles’ hired hands. There was a fortune to be made from such a handoff.

“Well?” Miles asked after she’d had plenty of time to mull over his offer; she ought to have snatched it up without question. He was being  _more_ than generous, considering all he wanted in return was information.

Taking another sip of her drink, Lilith sighed.

“As  _kind_ as your offer may be, I’m afraid I can’t help you. I don’t know anything about the Gardener.”

Miles scoffed and looked to the Heavens, taking a step closer to Lilith. Candace took a menacing step toward him in response but Lilith held up a hand to call her off.

“That’s poppycock," Miles snapped. "If  _anyone_ knows about him, it would be  _you._ Do you honestly expect me to believe that you know  _nothing_ about a man who poses a threat to both of our operations? We’ve known each other for a long time, Lilith,  _my dear;_  you’re not stupid, and neither am I. You know  _something_ about him, and the clauses laid out in our treaty dictate that, if you do, you have to  _tell me!_  Otherwise, all bets are off and… and I  _will_ come down on you. I’ll take everything you hold dear – starting with this little  _club_ of yours.”

He was right, of course; when they came to their agreement in early 2006, they had put a clause in place dictating that, if either party acquired knowledge of a plot by a foreign party to take either uptown or downtown territory, then that knowledge had to be passed onto the party being plotted against. Failure to disclose such information would be considered an active declaration of war.

Clause or no clause, Lilith still didn’t appreciate being threatened. Narrowing her eyes, she took a step of her own closer to Miles, the click of her heels on the damp pavement a warning in and of itself; she’d killed men before with nothing more than a shoe, and she’d done so with far less.

“I’m perfectly well-versed in the clauses of our little  _agreement_ , Miles; I don’t need you to  _remind_ me. Need I remind you, though, what I do to men who threaten me?”

Her blue eyes flashed. Miles set his jaw.

“No,” he stated, standing up straighter, “you do not.”

“Good,” Lilith quipped, standing up straighter herself. “Now, I’ve  _told_ you that I know nothing of the Gardener and I trust that you will take me on my word. I certainly haven’t heard that he has any plans to attack, neither your territory nor my own.” Curiosity, however, flickered in her eyes before she asked, “Why the sudden interest?”

Huffing quietly, Miles stepped out of the way so Candace could go about letting actual club-goers inside. Frowning, his annoyance renewed as he recalled the evening's events, he stated, “He stole something from me. Something that I’ve been planning to acquire for  _months_. I intend to get it back from him.”

Lilith seemed genuinely surprised by Miles’ statement. Blinking, her blue eyes a shade wider than before, she asked, “What did he steal?”

“He took the Millennium Star diamond,” Agatha supplied when Miles didn’t answer and he tossed her an exasperated look. Agatha just rolled her eyes.

“Oh, darling,  _please._ Lily and I are friends; she knows that we’ve been planning a big heist since before Christmas. I told her about it over drinks ages ago.”

“You…  _You_ …!” Miles stammered, eyes wide, and Lilith snorted.

“Relax, will you? She didn’t tell me  _what_ you were going after. Besides, you and I both know that jewel theft isn’t really my style.”

It was true; Lilith was far more likely to rob an army base of its chemical weapons than to rip off a jewelry store. It was more practical; weapons had a far wider range of buyers, whereas jewels had a far more exclusive target audience. That was a key difference between the two of them; Lilith liked having money, whereas Miles liked having  _things._

“Nevertheless,” Miles muttered, huffing, “If you hear anything, I expect to receive a call.”

“Of course,” Lilith agreed, smirking as she turned to look at Agatha, who had returned to Miles’ side. “Aggie. It was good to see you again.”

“The feeling is mutual, as always,” Agatha agreed, smirking right back. Miles made an exasperated noise and rolled his eyes, turning to walk back over to where they had parked the Porsche.

“If you two are quite done  _flirting_ ,” he intoned with irritation, “we have  _work_ to be getting on with.”

Lilith took a sip of her drink; Agatha winked; and, with that, they each turned and went their separate ways, Lilith back into Club Eden with its thumping bass and Agatha over to the Porsche with its whining crime lord.

* * *

The greenhouse was warm. Sickeningly warm, really; only plants could ever live within it comfortably. Plants and, perhaps, a snake.

Presently, it was home to both… sort of.

The Gardener wasn’t exactly human – not anymore. He had been, years ago, but prison changes you – typically without your consent. He had grown to embrace who he had become, though; being cold-blooded wasn’t so bad if you lived somewhere warm and, while his vision wasn’t quite what it used to be, his other senses were heightened – taste, smell, and _hearing_ among them.

He heard Lilith’s approach before she even came inside.

It was sunrise; the early-morning beams of light were filtering in through the glass that comprised the walls and ceiling, and it warmed the gentleman residing inside. He was busy fiddling with some sort of contraption made of iron when he heard it; heels clicking on cobblestone. A moment later there was a click as the door’s latch was lifted, and then there was the more prominent clicking of heels on the interior cobblestone when Lilith walked inside.

“ _Really,_ Tony?” was all that she said. Her arms were crossed over her chest as she ventured closer to the Gardener, and she looked far from cheerful. He turned from what he’d been doing to meet her gaze, sunglasses slipping down his nose.

The golden eyes of a snake peered back at her.

“No ‘good morning’ today, Lily?” he questioned, leaning casually back against a table containing several tall, spiralling potted plants. The entire greenhouse was filled with flourishing plant life; it would have been gorgeous to anyone who didn’t know what the plants were capable of when given a nudge by the man in question.

“I don’t think you deserve it,” she stated, walking over to stand directly in front of him while she frowned. “Miles Maitland? Of all the people you could have stolen from, you stole a diamond from _Miles Maitland?_ ”

“Technically not,” the Gardener supplied, lifting a hand to pluck a wilting flower from a stem near his head; the plant flinched and coiled away from his touch. Turning to look back at Lilith, he declared, “Miles Maitland happened to be in the process of stealing the same diamond that I was after. I stole it from Da Beers Sa, not from him.”

“Logistics are the _last thing_ that matters to that man, Tony,” Lilith stated as she rolled her eyes and gave her head a shake. “He came to my club tonight, you know; he wanted information about you. I had to _lie_ to his face and say that I knew nothing about you. Do you know what he’ll do if he finds out that I wasn’t forthcoming? Do you know what he’ll do if he finds out that the Gardener is my _big brother_ and that he’s living in the greenhouse behind our old family estate? He’ll declare _war_ on me, Tony, and I _really_ don’t feel like going through all of that again. It was _exhausting._ I like things the way that they are now, and you’re going to muck it all up for me.”

“I assure you that wasn’t my intention,” the Gardener – Tony – stated, arms crossed over his chest. “I wasn’t expecting him to be there. It was just… an unfortunate turn of fate.”

Rolling her eyes for the umpteenth time, Lilith heaved a tired sigh. When she met her brother’s snake-eyes again, she asked, “What do you need a diamond for, anyway? You know that if you need money, you only ever have to ask for it.”

“This wasn’t about _money_ ,” the Gardener sighed, pushing away from the table and walking back over to the iron contraption that he had been fiddling with. It was dangling from the support beams holding the glass ceiling together and had a small clamp hanging at the end, able to be tightened and loosened by a little iron key. Lilith noticed, absently, that it appeared to be hanging precisely in the center of the greenhouse.

“Then what _is_ it about?” she asked, moving to stand beside her brother.

The Gardener pulled the diamond from his coat pocket and held it in his palm, giving her a proper look at it.

“This isn’t just any old diamond, Lily,” he explained. “It’s-”

“The Millennium Star. Yes, yes, I know; Agatha told me this evening when she and Miles stopped by the club. It’s one of the most valuable diamonds in the world – but that doesn’t explain why _you_ have it.”

“It’s more than just a valuable stone,” the Gardener insisted, holding the diamond up to the rising sunlight; it sparkled and tossed glittering shadows throughout the room. “It’s _powerful,_ Lily – unspeakably powerful.”

Furrowing her brow, glancing from the diamond to her brother and back again, Lilith asked, “Powerful how?”

The Gardener smirked and closed his fingers around the diamond again, launching into an avid explanation. He had clearly done his research.

“You know where the diamond was found, don’t you? In central Africa?”

“I do now,” Lilith stated, smirking slightly in return. Her brother shook his head with amusement before continuing.

“Well, before it was sold and cut down during Zaire’s civil war, stories began to circulate about the stone’s power – about how, when placed in direct sunlight, the refracted light could cause exponential growth in _plant life_. Saplings would grow into towering trees within mere hours, seeds would sprout and bloom within minutes. _This diamond_ could regrow entire forests in days – perhaps in less.”

Lilith arched an eyebrow and asked, “When did you become such a humanitarian?”

The Gardener scoffed.

“A humanitarian? Lily, _please;_ do try to keep up.”

His sister huffed.

“The _point is_ ,” he insisted, carrying the diamond over and placing it within the clamp of the iron contraption before turning the key to tighten the clamp and hold it in place, “that with _this diamond_ , I can grow an entire army. No more waiting for the plants to grow; no more scaring them into submission. By the end of the week, I’ll finally be able to strike.”

Lilith frowned at that, stepping closer to her brother. Resting a hand on his back, she hesitantly asked, “…you’re talking about striking the prison?”

“More specific.”

Her frown deepening as her brows knitted together, Lilith stated, “Dr. Deville.”

“Bingo,” the Gardener stated, looking up toward the ceiling as the sun continued to rise. Lilith shook her head, grabbing her brother’s arm and whirling him around to look at her.

“Tony, that’s mad. I told you that I would take care of it; that I would take care of _you._ Things like this take time, and careful planning, and-”

“The longer we wait, the more people he’s going to hurt,” the Gardener stated, his jaw clenched, and Lilith gave him a shake.

“ _Exactly!_ Tony, you’ve been out of there for _months;_ there’s no telling what other… what other-”

“What?” the Gardener asked. “What other _freaks_ he’s cooked up? What other men and women he’s turned into _monsters?_ ”

“Yes!” Lilith shouted, anxiety clear in her blue eyes. She never wavered like this around anyone; her reputation relied upon being stoic, but all bets were off when it came to her brother. He’d always been her weakness. “Anthony, you need to get it into your head that you were a _mistake._ That’s the only reason you were let out of that hellhole! You went through _everything that he did to you_ and still maintained the ability to think and feel; you maintained _consciousness,_ which meant he _couldn’t control you._ You were a _failed experiment_ – one that he undoubtedly has learned from. There’s no telling what he’s done to the other Demons – what kind of monsters _success_ has bred. Do you honestly think that you and an army of _plants_ will stand a chance? He’ll _kill you_.”

Frowning, the Gardener shrugged off Lilith’s touch and returned his gaze upward, watching the sunlight crawl closer and closer to the diamond.

“He killed Anthony Crowley a long time ago, Lilith,” he stated, adjusting his sunglasses on his nose. “When he took my eyes and my tongue – when he _vivisected_ me. Do you know what they call him in there, Lily? Do you?”

He turned to look at his sister when she remained silent.

“Dr. Moreau,” he stated, looking back at the diamond afterward. “They call him Dr. Moreau, and that prison is his island, and we were his Beasts.”

Lilith swallowed the lump rising in her throat. Her hands were trembling.

As the sunlight finally landed on the diamond, beams of colourful light refracting throughout the greenhouse, Anthony Crowley declared, “If I don’t stop him, then no one will.”

As his sister took a step closer, finding his hand and tangling their fingers tightly together, the plants throughout the greenhouse began to shudder.

Then they began to grow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Miles' search for the Gardener and his stolen diamond continues, while Lilith seeks help from an unexpected individual to prevent her brother's suicide mission.


End file.
